SHATTERED
by Patcat
Summary: In memory of the Santa Mug


SHATTERED

She didn't see the mug until after she returned to her desk. Broken into a thousand red and white pieces, it lay on the floor between their desks. In its landing Bobby's binder had hit the Santa mug and sent it hurtling to the floor. She stared at the pieces, and for a moment she thought and hoped that it might respond to some glue and intensive care, but the damage was clearly beyond that. She bent down and, using two sheets of paper, swept up the pieces and dumped them in the trash. She was relieved that only a skeleton staff was on hand to witness' Bobby's tantrum and her anger and frustration. She somehow managed not to cry as she cleaned up the mug's remains and finished the paperwork. When she completed the work, she wordlessly dumped it on Ross' desk.

"Thank you," Ross said quietly. "And the Deputy Commissioner and his wife are both grateful…"

Alex sighed softly. "I appreciate it, Sir."

Ross studied her for a moment. "They also expressed their thanks to your partner…"

Alex was tired of dealing with Bobby, of defending Bobby. "I'll let him know that…If I see him."

"If you see him," Ross said. "Tell him that he still has a job…One that does provide leave for family emergencies."

Alex smiled wearily. "For him to use that, he'd have to admit he has a life outside the job…"

Ross returned the smile. "I know you're having a rough time, Eames…but don't give up on him yet. I know I've been hard on you both, but you're clearly the best team in the squad. You have a great partnership."

"We had a great partnership," Alex thought as she returned to her desk. "I'm not sure we even have a partnership at all now…"

Bobby's binder now rested on his desk. Alex was sick of it, but she also had no desire to leave it for the squad's prying eyes. She scooped it up as she left the office, but once in her car it sat like a poisonous viper in the passenger seat.

"He's probably with his Mom," she thought, and for a moment some sympathy for Bobby softened her heart. But the memory of the shattered mug dotting the Squad Room floor heated her anger. "He's not getting off easy," she thought. "He's going to have to apologize…at least…but I'll drop the binder off…"

She found the secret parking spot the super of Bobby's building kept open and headed up to his apartment. "I'll just drop it on his desk," she thought as she unlocked the door with the key he'd given her. "And maybe I'll just drop this key as well…"

Bobby stormed out of the Major Case Squad and down the stairwell. He wanted no chance of encountering anyone in the elevator. When he shoved open the parking garage door, a tremor moved through his body.

"Alex," he thought and slumped against his car. "I've finally done it…I've finally ruined it…"

The ring of his cell phone broke into his dark thoughts. It was one of his mother's new doctors, quietly explaining that she had finally relaxed and was sleeping. The doctor suggested that sleep might be a good idea for Bobby as well.

"But I can't rest," Bobby thought. "There's too much in my head…" For a moment, he considered returning to the squad room, but the prospect of facing the squad, the captain, and especially Alex was not a pleasant one. "Besides," he thought bitterly. "I probably don't have anything to go back to."

He went to his apartment, shed his jacket, and stared around the main room. "So," he thought. "This is what my life's become…" He shuffled into the kitchen, pulled a bottle and a glass from a shelf, and sat heavily at his desk. His head in his hands, Bobby sat for several moments before he opened the bottle and poured out a glass of the dark liquid.

Alex entered the dark apartment; there was just enough light for her to negotiate her way through to the main room. As she passed the small kitchen to the living area Alex was stunned to see Bobby Goren sitting at his desk and staring out the balcony window. A glass in his hands, he was hunched over, his dark eyes focused on some distant point. A bottle sat on the desk.

Alex swallowed; her mission had become much more difficult.

"Bobby," she said deliberately, forcing her voice to be as cold as possible. "You left your binder."

He didn't move.

She walked to the desk, purposefully keeping as much space between her and Bobby as possible.

"Here," she said as she dropped the binder on the desk. "I don't know if you care, but you still have a job…" She turned to go and sensed a slight movement behind her.

"Do I still have a partner?" His voice rumbled softly; the words were slightly slurred.

Alex's resolve began to crumble, but she fought against it. "I got the impression you didn't want your partner's help."

She heard a sound as if Bobby had been struck by a blow; it was enough to cause her to turn around to look at him. Compassion and anger fought within Alex, and the battle further inflamed her rage.

"When you threw your temper tantrum," she said flatly. "You broke the Santa mug."

Bobby's body shook, but his eyes couldn't meet hers.

"You know, Bobby…the mug my Dad gave me…The one he gave me as a good luck token when I graduated from the Academy…" She saw that, in spite of the alcohol that had numbed his body, she was hurting him. And she didn't care. "The one," she said driving and twisting the knife deeper in him. "The one my father used to have his Christmas drink in…The one he'd let me have a sip from so I'd know I was special…the one we played games for…the one…the one…"

The coldness fled her voice, and Alex choked. She knew she didn't mourn the mug—although its destruction hurt, and hurt deeply—but the partnership and friendship. She turned away; she couldn't let Bobby know how deeply and badly she'd been hurt. She stumbled toward the door. Bobby recovered from his initial shock and staggered to his feet.

"P-please," he choked. "Please…don't…I…I'm sorry…I…I didn't know…I…I'm sorry…Alex…Oh, God…I'm sorry…" The honest pain in Bobby's voice stopped Alex. He lurched in front of her path. "I…I'll fix it…we can…something…"

She stared at the floor. "It…it can't be fixed…It's in a thousand pieces…" She cursed her voice for betraying her.

Bobby shook violently and he drove the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Oh, God…oh, no…" he whispered. "I've become him…I'm just like him…Destroy things…and people…and run away…" He backed away from Alex. "I…I…I never meant to…I know…I hurt you…I'm so sorry…" He was against the couch's edge. "It's just…just…" His hands still covered his eyes. "I…I'll request the transfer…you…I won't let it hurt you…"

Her heart breaking, Alex blurted, "I don't want a new partner. I want my partner to trust me."

He peered at her through his hands. "I do…do trust you…more than anyone…ever…"

She stepped closer to him. "Telling someone to "back off" doesn't sound like trust to me."

He collapsed on the couch. "I'm…I'm sorry…so sorry…but…Alex…" The combination of the alcohol, shame, exhaustion, and the fear of losing her destroyed his defenses. "I…I'm not…good…at trust…I don't…I don't know how…"

Alex stared down at him. He was slumped over, his head again in his hands.

"Of course he doesn't know how to trust," she thought. "Everyone he should've been able to…His Dad…His Mom…His brother…even his mentor…all of them…betrayed him…even if they didn't mean to…"

She carefully placed a hand on his shoulder; she felt the muscles trembling beneath his skin.

"You can trust me, Bobby," she whispered. "It's been six years…you can trust me…"

"But…but…" he choked. "Do you…can you…trust me?"

"Of course I do," she answered.

"But…but I didn't…when you…when you needed me most…I wasn't…I couldn't…help you…"

Alex let her hand rest on his hair; Bobby shivered. "We've talked about that, Bobby. You gave me the tools to deal with it…You kept her away from me…"

"But…but…" He sounded like a small, frightened child. "I…I broke your mug…"

She took a deep breath. "Yea…you did…" She struggled to keep her voice even and calm. "And I'm angry and hurt about that…But, finally…it's just a thing."

He chanced a look at her.

"Besides," she added wearily. "What with all the Eameses, all I've put it through, and all your gyrations, it's a wonder the poor thing survived this long."

He returned to his study of the carpet.

"I…I am sorry, Alex…I…I've never been so sorry in my life…" He swallowed. "I'll try…I'll really try…I do trust you…I just don't know…how to do…or show it…"

"Ok," Alex said gently. "We'll work it out…All I ask is that you work it out with me…" She let her hand rest lightly on his head.

Bobby looked up at her, and Alex watched the pieces of their partnership move back together, click, and seal.

"I…I'll try," he whispered.

She could still see the cracks and fissures in the partnership, but knew that they could be healed.

"All right," she whispered.

Bobby leaned into her touch. "I'm so tired," he confessed. "But I'm afraid to go to sleep."

"Here," Alex answered. She sat next to him on the couch. "I'll sit with you."

He hesitated for a moment, and then leaned against her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"Thank you," she said. "For trusting me."

His fingers curled with hers. "It's…it's just that…It's hard with my Mom…A lot of people…treated her…me…badly…"

Alex nodded. "But I'm not one of them…."

"I…I know," he replied. "But…there's these defenses…" He swallowed. "It's hard to stop…to change…"

They fell into exhausted sleep on the couch. Alex woke to the warm, rich smell of coffee.

"Hey," Bobby said softly and waved the cup beneath her nose.

"H-m-m," Alex muttered and yawned as she stretched her muscles. "What…what time is it?"

"You're either late for work…or just enough time to visit your family," Bobby answered.

Alex stared at him over the coffee.

Bobby grinned. "Don't worry…I checked with…and apologized to…Ross…We've got the day."

Alex returned the grin and took a long drink from the cup. "Ah…strong and sweet…Thank you, Bobby."

"I'll buy you breakfast if you get a move on," Bobby said genially.

It was a quiet, friendly breakfast. They fought over sections of the paper; Bobby stole bites of Alex's pancakes while she snuck bits of his omelet.

"It's like," Alex thought. "Like it always is."

The plates had been cleared away and they were lingering over coffee when Bobby took a deep breath.

"I'm really sorry about the mug, Alex…Really…"

Clutching her cup, Alex leaned across the table. "It's ok, Bobby…I'm sorry about it, too, but the important thing is that WE'RE ok…And we are…" She studied him. "Aren't we?"

"Yea," Bobby said softly. "But I still…I still feel bad about it…"

Alex smiled. "Like I said…the poor thing was lucky to have been around as long as it was…but don't think I won't take advantage of your guilt."

He smiled back at her, and Alex decided to tread in dangerous waters.

"You going to see your Mom?"

He looked down at the table. "Yea…but I think it might be better today…"

She reached across the table and put her hand over his. "You call me…let me know…If you need me…I'll come…"

He started to protest, but stopped and looked at her. "Yes," he finally said. "I'll call you…and I will let you know if I need you…"

He kept his word. He called her that night. "It could have been worse," was all he'd say, but Alex felt the admission was a small triumph. She approached work the next morning in a very good mood. She saw Bobby sitting in Ross' office; both men seemed calmly engaged in a reasonable conversation. As she approached her desk, she stopped in the middle of her step. There, in the middle of the desk, was a perfect twin of the Santa mug. A twin except it lacked the chips and cracks that marked the old mug, and it was bright and shiny, its red a vivid scarlet and its white blazingly pure. It was filled with Skittles and rested on a slip of paper. Alex glanced around her to be sure she wasn't the subject of any prying eyes and carefully lifted the mug. Its handle wasn't as worn or smooth as the old one, but fit just as comfortably in her hand. She sat at her desk and carefully unfolded the paper.

"Alex," the words read in Bobby's scrawl. "I trust you to take care of me."

She lowered her head so no one could see the tears in her eyes. She realized Bobby had returned from Ross' office and sat across from her. She raised her eyes.

"Ok?" His voice was low and gentle.

"Ok…more than ok," she answered. "But it stays on my desk…and the Skittles are mine."

END


End file.
